


taxi cab, oh so fab

by getthisoff



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cop!Louis, Crack, M/M, background Larry, cab driver!Zayn, established relationships - Freeform, so much crack, this makes no sense im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getthisoff/pseuds/getthisoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn drives a cab for a living. One night, driving through the streets of London, he picks up Niall Horan. Everything just goes to shit from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	taxi cab, oh so fab

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this with little to no sleep. enjoy.

1.00 a.m.

 

"USE YOUR FUCKIN' INDICATOR YOU SWEATY BALLSACK," Zayn whispers as he speeds down the busy London street. His eyes are tired and his hair has silly string permanently intertwined into his follicles. It's a typical Saturday night.

 

The glow of the taxi headlights reflect off a pasty thin calf. A young blonde man has pulled up his pants and is sticking out his leg in what is believed to be a seductive manner. From behind the steering wheel, Zayn assumes the man needs his transportational services. 

 

He flips his indicator ( _thats how you fuckin' do it, yo. road safety man!!_ ), signalling him turning left. He stops, left indicator blinking.

 

The young man burps. Zayn observes him with a passive look ( _when is his face ever anything but?_ ) on his face. In his mind, Zayn is imagining his bed at home, the mattress sunken in to the shape of his frame.

 

The young man has entered the cab. He burps once again, followed by a giggle. Zayn looks into the rearview mirror. 

 

"Where to?”

 

The blonde looks around the cab, his hands are rubbing against the faux leather material. 

 

"Nice place ya got back 'ere mate. Comfy."

 

Zayn turns back to look at his passenger. ( _God, he looks looks plastered. I hope he doesn’t puke on the upholstery._ )

 

"You do know you're in a cab, yeah? Where to?"

 

The blonde looks at Zayn. He smiles. He leans back and sticks out his right calf once again.

 

"Hi, I'm Niall."

 

 

 

1.30 a.m.

 

"Niall, we've been around this tree two times already. Why can't you just tell me your address?"

 

Niall shakes his head and looks down. "We're almost there, cab man sir. Just keep drivin'," he mutters. 

 

Zayn sighs and looks at the cab fair on the meter. Seventeen pounds. He continues to drive.

 

Behind him, Niall pulls out a bucket of flowers. 

 

"Cab man."

"M'name is Zayn."

"Cab man, I have flowers for you."

 

Zayn turns around. "What?"

 

Niall's attention focuses on the road. "Curly person."

 

Zayn turns around. His cab is heading straight into the direction of a giraffe like human with wild hair. Zayn slams the breaks. The car skids. In the back, Niall squeals, his arms raised. "JUST LIKE THE SIXTIES, MAN," he screams. The cab comes to a halt. All is silent except for their breathing. Zayn's eyes are closed. He hears Niall mutter something about tulips from the back. There is a knock at the window. The giraffe looking man with big hair is peering into the cab.

 

Zayn sighs and looks at the cab fair. It's still running. He switches it off.

 

1.45 a.m.

 

"So how exactly did your car blow up?" Zayn asked with furrowed brows. 

 

“Not my car mate, my bike. My poor Mary.” The tall tall man with very curly hair muttered oh so slowly.

 

Zayn sighed. “Right. Well, do you need a ride somewhere? The police station? Your house? A salon?”

 

The man looked at Zayn with big eyes, his pretty face covered in soot. There was a twig in his hair. Zayn does not get paid enough for this shit. 

 

“Yes please..” Curly Sad Face said before crawling through the open window of the backseat, very much not using the back door like a normal person. Of course.

 

Niall turned to look at their newest addition with a big (and rather delirious looking) smile. 

 

“Hiya! M’Niall. Cab man here is very good to me. What’s your name? What shampoo do you use?”

 

Curly Sad Face blinked his eyes owlishly. “I’m Harry,” he said with his incredibly low voice. He talked like smooth chocolate, but looked like an overdeveloped long bean. “…and I’d love a flower very much a lot please thanks..”

 

Zayn huffed, “Right! Where to guys?”

 

Harry sighed, “I must give Mary a proper burial. Please bring me to the nearest police station post haste.”

 

“Right. Okay. Niall? You still haven’t told me where you need to go?”

 

Niall simply smiled. “Take me home, cab man. Just take me home.”

 

Zayn banged his head into the steering wheel repeatedly.

 

2.00 a.m.

 

Dropping Harry at the police station, Zayn watched from the car as Harry was greeted by what appeared to be his cop boyfriend, an impish tanned man with wispy hair and bright blue eyes. He walked up to the drivers door with a small smile.

 

“Thanks for bringing him mate. I’m Louis. If you ever need to get away with murder, you call me yeah?’” Louis said with a rather unnerving smile.

 

“Cab man… this man is scaring my flowers. I insist you hit the pedal, heavy metal,” Niall whispered from the back of the cab.

 

“On it,” Zayn whispered back, giving Louis a quick smile before flooring the accelerator, watching Louis and Harry fade in the background through the rear view mirror, their heads bent together. 

 

Zayn was so quitting his job after tonight.

 

2.10 a.m.

 

“Zayn.”

 

Zayn’s eyes darted to Niall. 

 

“How do you know my name?” Zayn asked worriedly.

 

“Doesn’t matter. Please stop the cab. My flowers are ready,” Niall said seriously. 

 

“I- um- okay?”

 

Zayn stopped the car with a halt in front of what looked like a very hipster-y florist. 

 

Niall nodded at Zayn, “Cheers Zayn Malik! Have a good evening.”

 

Zayn stared.

 

When he drove away, he took one last glance behind him. Niall had disappeared from view. In the back seat lay a single white daisy.

 

3.00 a.m.

 

“Zayn? That you?” Liam asked unnecessarily from the kitchen as he heard his boyfriend slam the front door of their shared flat with a huff.

 

“Why are you awake, love?” Zayn asked as he hugged Liam from the back, hooking his chin over the other’s shoulder. 

 

“Just hungry, thought I’d fix myself some toast. You want some? How was work? Anything interesting happen?”

 

Zayn huffed out a quiet laugh, “You wouldn’t believe it,” he said before smashing his lips to Liam’s in what was supposed to be a romantic way.

 

Somewhere in the night, Niall Horan was planting a satsuma tree of unknown origin in Hyde Park (it was the dead of winter, mind you). Louis Tomlinson was cooking mystery meat with a rusty spoon in the back of a dark room. Harry Styles was in the middle of a disused lot, watching Mary The Motorbike burn, fire glinting dangerously off his green eyes. 

 

All was as it should be.

 

Well, sort of.

**Author's Note:**

> bye.


End file.
